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It was a grave situation — my friends, especially the ones who actually know how to spell Vivienne Westwood and Coco Chanel, were in a flux. So a meeting was called, which spelt lots of wine and hors d’oeuvres.

So when I told them that I had given up on alcohol (mostly!), I could literally hear them force a lid on their involuntary spasms. But I was still part of the sorority. So they were upset about John Galliano’s dismissal from house of Christian Dior.

They were of course not sympathetic, in case you are wondering, but more like “appalled by his behaviour”. One would think a man of his calibre would be more sensitive towards people.

Clearly they had not met too many designers. Anyhow, I was only a silent spectator at the discussion. Considering that I was not drinking, my opinion didn’t really matter.

So as one of them smacked her pink lips at the tanginess of this really mellow Chenin Blanc, she went, “How could he be such a racist!” and I was pretty certain that she’d lowered her volume when she hit the ‘r’word. Even though I wanted to add in the ‘anti-Semitic’ part as well, I kept quiet.

After a few glasses and promises of never to touch a G-design again, which was quite shocking considering neither of them has one to begin with, we moved on to mundane conversations when Pink Lips announced her brother was getting married in two months.

But it was going to be very low key because no one was quite happy about the wedding. I was naturally curious? Her brother was an attractive man and had good taste — what could possibly be wrong with the girl? Oh! She’s from another community, I was informed. Plus, she is darker than him and her parents are divorced.

It was at that precise moment it hit me — we, as Indians, are the champions of racism. We differentiate between people all the time, which is also why fairness creams in our country are such profitable businesses.

It is also why we treat our domestic help differently and can’t imagine why they’d get more than they already do.

It doesn’t matter how old we get — a bunch of well-educated, working women, all above 30, shouldn’t be worried about the colour of their brother’s wife’s skin but here she was — expressing unhappiness at the same fact.

One of my closest friends was very clear that his wife has to be fair-skinned — she could be the epitome of promiscuity and deceit but as long as she was fair and tall enough for his parents, he wouldn’t mind ‘hooking’ up with her.

I have tried to see their perspective, because they better have one, but have never quite figured out why colour is so important when it comes to love.

I am collecting a penny for each time one has heard or uttered the phrase: “she’s good looking but a little on the darker side”. I am hoping to retire rich.